


expiration date

by whateverthisissupposedtobe



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3293807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whateverthisissupposedtobe/pseuds/whateverthisissupposedtobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>robert can’t keep the grin off his face, and xabi can’t stop looking at him. whatever he had been holding back, he had given it up. their eyes meet and they both know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

it starts off simply. a pat of the head at training. brushing hands as they pass each other in the tunnel before the game. rubbing shoulders when they go down at half time. suddenly, robert starts to seek out those touches. he looks for xabi, and once he sees him, every person and every obstruction between them is blurred. but xabi is sharp, and in contrast.

xabi, who was once, not an enemy, but not a friend. xabi, who remembers robert taking down real madrid with four goals. the tall polish man with the long surname that sometimes got twisted on xabi’s spanish tongue when he yearned to speak, and curse, that name. robert looks a lot better in red and blue, and xabi makes a note of this when he joins the team. by then, robert was already well settled into the club, speaking perfect german with his new teammates. and how they loved him. he was supposed to be a former competitor of theirs, so that would make assimilation harder, but robert’s heart beat for bayern longer than he wanted to admit. the other men saw that in him, and they were happy that he finally got where he wanted to be. and when he would score, and point towards the sky, xabi had to ask him why.

“are you a religious man?”

“i’m calling for my father. he was a bayern fan,” robert replies with a weak, tender smile. it’s a subject xabi tries to avoid as much as possible, because robert’s face changes abruptly. not that he is always happy-go-lucky. he’s got somewhat of a temper and he’s hard on himself and not out of pride, but because he always thinks he can do better. that all stems back to his father.

“he’s watching me after all. i can do better for him,” robert says and xabi can feel his chest cave in. robert looks like a little boy in those moments, fiercely vulnerable and horribly alone. xabi wants to put his arms around him and remind him that he’s got a whole team that loves him, and all the fans in the allianz arena that call out his name, and a beautiful, accomplished wife. he should be happy for everything he’s got, but sometimes a little boy just wants his father.

xabi doesn’t touch robert, not unless he knows he can. not unless robert has just scored, and the team runs towards him with arms outstretched. and robert is in juan bernat’s arms and xabi comes towards them, patting robert’s head and then taking in the sound of the crowd roaring in approval. the bundesliga crowds are a spectacle all their own and xabi doesn’t know if he’ll ever tire of deafening sounds they create when bayern scores.

robert accepts every embrace, but it’s only xabi’s that he truly takes in. xabi’s shirt is transparent with sweat, he’s got grass stains pressed into his hands and his hair is sticking up at odd ends. but robert doesn’t care, he thinks he needs this. xabi is always hot, his body radiating heat even during a rainstorm. robert bundles under a blanket while sitting on the bench on a cold day, during the latter half of a game. xabi is sitting beside him, comfortably only in a sweat suit.

robert doesn’t touch xabi, unless he knows no one is paying attention. he couldn’t bear to do it in front of the crowds and television cameras. he fears he will flush red from head to toe. and his fingers shake, or they used to. now they’ve come accustomed to the touch of xabi’s skin. the pinpricks of his beard as robert gives it a light, playful slap before a match.

“it’s good luck, rubbing xabi’s beard,” thomas muller jokes, when he watches robert do so before a home game against a bundesliga foe. that’s when it happens - robert begins to blush and turns away from xabi to hide it. but it’s too late, and xabi is confused by his embarrassment. he instinctively reaches for robert’s arm to bring him back, but he pulls back when he realizes he has no reason to. they’re about to form lines and xabi is pinned between juan and bastian. robert is somewhere further up, fidgeting with his jersey.

somehow, they’ve ended up sitting next to each other regularly on the bus. so on the bus ride back, robert has already taken the window seat somewhere in the middle of the bus. xabi sits next to him wordlessly. robert has his head turned towards the window, and appears not to notice xabi is there.

“you all right?” xabi asks, but he anticipates the answer before it comes.

“wish i scored,” robert says listlessly. that’s the only thing that burns on his mind. sure, he provided an assist for robben, but that doesn’t seem to factor in for him. once a top goalscorer for the bundesliga, but he seems so far from that accomplishment now. a new season, and the slate is cleared. robert is still adjusting to the bayern way, which has been embedded in the other players like thomas, arjen and franck. but he doesn’t make any excuses for himself, and xabi won’t do it for him, because it will fall upon deaf ears.

_stop being so hard on yourself,_ xabi wants to say but he doesn’t want to see robert shoot him an annoyed look.

_aren’t we all hard on ourselves, and is that so bad?_ robert would say back.

sometimes it paralyzes us, all that pressure, xabi would reply. but no such conversation commences. xabi looks at robert’s hand, spread out against his knee, and wonders if it would be a comfort to close his hand over robert’s. he looks to his other side to see benatia deeply interested in whatever music he’s listening to on his headphones. he wouldn’t notice. but xabi can’t muster the courage. he leans his head back on the seat and tries to relax his muscles. they’re all tensed, waiting to touch robert. _if not now, then when?_ they prod. xabi clenches and unclenches his hands. robert keeps staring out the window, unaware.

 


	2. Chapter 2

it only takes a few weeks more, and they’re both aching through their skin and into their bones. they jostle each other at training, hands against chests. smiles pinned to their faces as they do so. they run laps together, with xabi lagging slightly behind the younger man. robert turns back, smiling over his shoulder as xabi adjusts the hat on his head and then lugs on. they stumble into the locker room, wrecked and exhausted. they strip, and this is the time when they try as hard as possible not to be near one another. robert keeps his eyes on his locker as he slowly takes off his clothes. the sounds of thomas chatting on, bastian laughing, and manuel scoffing echoes against the shower walls. xabi is somewhere nearby, robert knows, but he walks towards the showers with his eyes on the floor.

xabi turns back to see robert walk away, his tall naked form disappearing into the steam. he waits a beat, and then follows. but not follows, but just goes where he has to go. he hates the smell and stickiness of sweat that is pinned to his body after training and after a game. the warm water feels good against his skin. he tries to focus on that and not the blurred image of robert showing in the corner of his eye. he could so easily turn and see the man running his hands up and down his body, lavishing soap across his long, lean torso. but xabi can’t do it to himself. nor to robert.

he finishes quickly, and robert is surprised to see xabi exit the showers early. he usually likes to soak under the water until he’s nearly the last person standing there. when robert returns to the locker room to redress, xabi has left and taken his bag with him.

he doesn’t know xabi is in his car now, driving at breakneck speed to get home. driving and gritting his teeth, turning to put down his erection by pure force of will. but he feels his body unraveling, the heat in his stomach and his head becoming overwhelming. and he can’t blame it on all that shower steam. he reaches his house, and parks in the driveway, but sits there for a while. he’s almost prepared to cry, but crying never came easily for him. he’s got fifteen hours to sort his head out before tomorrow’s game. those hours seem like an eternity away, but pass like seconds. xabi eats dinner with his family, shamefully keeping his eyes away for nagore’s for much of the meal. then he watches a liverpool v. arsenal game that he had recorded from earlier in the day. then he sleeps. when he wakes, he realizes he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

robert, bless him, keeps out of his way for much of the morning. his seat on the bus is occupied by juan, who is talking seriously to robert about something. xabi sits next to manuel, who smiles warmly at him, and doesn’t talk much which suits xabi just fine.

but in the tunnel xabi can feel robert’s eyes boring into the back of his head. xabi’s eyes dart around for an escape, or simply someone who will occupy his time so he won’t be alone with robert. his mental planning is for naught because robert only gives him a second longer, before he approaches xabi. he’s got on his usual warm, friendly smile. a smile apt to melt anyone’s defenses down.

“good luck,” robert says, and some other niceties. xabi smiles and nods, but his movements feel awkward and stilted and of course robert notices. his hand grazes against xabi’s hand and then suddenly moves further up until its enclosed around the back of xabi’s neck.

“are you feeling all right?” robert asks. xabi looks right into those light eyes and wonders if he could translate every feeling and desire welled up inside and not have to say any words. it doesn’t work because robert’s smile turns into a confused frown.

“xabi?” he says. “i said ‘are you feeling all right’?”

“fine,” xabi says and then pats his stomach. “just nervous. butterflies.”

robert laughs, he doesn’t believe it. xabi doesn’t get nervous. robert’s hand has dropped away. xabi stupidly moves forward, closing the small space between them even more. he needs to make up for the lost touch. robert is starting to blush and xabi wonders if he needs to translate anything telepathically to the polish man, or if it’s already there in his head, awaiting translation.

“good luck,” xabi says, through a heavy breath. there’s commotion around them. the game is starting soon, and “xabi alonso and robert lewandowski are standing around having a chat instead of getting into line,” philipp lahm bemoans.

robert scores, with a header. xabi watches from midfield as the juan, philipp, thomas and franck surround him with open arms. he could do the same. even manuel has run off the field and towards the benches to embrace the sitting team. but xabi stays in the middle of the field, watching as robert disentangles himself from the mass of limbs that encircled him and looks out towards midfield. he finds who he was looking for. xabi alonso, standing in the middle of the pitch, with his hands on his hips.

_he looks winded,_ robert reasons with himself. _that’s why he isn’t bothering to make the run over here. i mean, jerome managed to do it but – xabi looks winded._

xabi is winded, but that never stopped him before. he knows what has stopped him now. he told himself in that moment to stop being a fool. stop chasing after what he could not have – what he wouldn’t even be right to have.

robert had small, well hidden insecurities and they involved other people’s judgments of him. he could stand being disliked, but being ignored and being made to feel invisible, was what he could not stand. xabi doesn’t say a word to him after the game, showers quickly and then heads out to his car and drives off. he thinks he hears bastian calling for him, but he couldn’t stop his brisk pace towards the car.

xabi eats alone at home. nagore is out, and the kids are at school. he thinks only of robert’s kaleidoscope of expressions that day. his smile, his confusion, his anger.

robert is furious, but he doesn’t know why. while he changes after his shower, he wonders why xabi’s behavior could shift his mood so easily. why should he care that xabi didn’t congratulate him on his goal – not once – and although he had never failed to before? maybe xabi was just having an off day. but no, he had played pitch perfect as usual. robert can console himself into knots, but he knows what he really needs to do is just talk to xabi. talking was never their strong point. the language divide limited what they could say. they had to go by expressions, touches and sense for much of the way. it hardly failed them before, but now they were coursing into uncharted territory. robert needed words right now, they were more grounded than anything else.

 


	3. Chapter 3

robert calls xabi, and asks to see him. xabi knew he had the house to himself for an hour or so, so he relented. robert nearly pleaded on the phone, and xabi felt bad enough for his behavior that day. he didn’t live far and it only took fifteen minutes to drive to xabi’s. as he walked up the driveway and xabi was already opening the door. he looked good, robert couldn’t help but note. he was wearing a long sleeve black sweater and grey sweatpants.

“you were acting strange today,” robert says, after xabi had closed the door. “i know i didn’t just imagine it.”

“i just felt i needed some distance,” xabi says. he leans against the door and robert turns towards him.

“did i do something to upset you?” robert asks.

“no, you did nothing. i promise,” xabi says. “don’t blame yourself for anything.” _you do enough of that._

“then what is it?” robert was moving closer, and kept doing so during the conversation. he was trapping xabi, physically and otherwise.

“something i – i can’t explain.”

robert is annoyed. xabi was never one for mincing words. “please try. i value you dearly – as a friend.”

robert wondered if he needed to make that clarification. xabi tilted his head and smiled, probably wondering the same thing.

“i value you too,” xabi says, in such a way that he might have been mulling over if those english words meant what he thought they did. they seemed to mean something different coming from robert. but what exactly was he aching to hear?

“then what?” robert says, that pleading voice making a reappearance. xabi’s weakness. xabi’s other weakness was how robert was only a few inches away from him. yet they were still not touching.

_maybe if he touched me, suddenly it would all make sense_ , xabi thinks. so he reaches forward and closes his hand around robert’s wrist. he sees robert’s eyes cloud over suddenly, taking on a new shade and expression. that blush crept forward. xabi feels all the heat in his body flood towards his hand. do you see now?

“you never quit,” xabi says with a smile. “but you’re fighting for the wrong thing here.”

“you’re worth it?” robert says, fumbling with the right words to use.

xabi’s other hand reached forward to lightly rest on robert’s neck. they were the same height, so they stood parallel to one another. eyes to eyes, nose to nose, lips to lips. it would have been so easy to close that space and feel the heat from that blush against robert’s lips. the force of that desire hit xabi hard and fast. robert’s expression was unreadable. he simply blinked, and those few seconds seemed to stretch out till infinity.

then the sound of a car door slamming shut startles them. they move apart, and xabi opens the door. nagore is walking towards the porch with the kids in tow. robert says hello to her, mumbles something about returning a DVD to xabi and then walked quickly towards his car. luckily nagore was too tired and frazzled dealing with the children to make much of the two blushing men inside the house together. she pecks xabi on the cheek and he smiles that familiar smile that he always gave her.

robert scores a brace in the next game and xabi is too proud of him not to show it. he runs over and ruffles robert’s hair, who turns towards xabi and wraps his arms around him. other teammates surround them, but xabi notices no one. not them, not the crowd, and not pep guardiola on the touchline, shouting for them to keep up the momentum. robert is so warm and xabi’s hands stick to the back of his wet jersey. his hands move down, feeling the stitching that makes out the number nine. he swears, he could stay like this for hours. robert’s face in the crook of his neck, smelling like green grass and unparalleled power. arjen scores fifteen minutes later, and the team is hurdling towards a 3-0 win.

in the locker room, robert can’t keep the grin off his face, and xabi can’t stop looking at him. whatever he had been holding back, he had given it up. their eyes meet and they both know it.

 


	4. Chapter 4

the next game, robert goes down. someone on the opposing team goes for a tackle to get the ball from robert, and ends up pushing their foot against his ankle. he falls down hard, holding his ankle and turning his face into the ground. xabi walks over, his heart beating rapidly. guardiola is having fit on the touchline, shouting at the referee’s assistant and marveling at his poor luck to have the longest injury list in bundesliga. eventually robert reaches his arm out, asking to be helped up. xabi comes to his aid and helps the man get back on his feet.

“i’m okay,” robert says but xabi knows he’s lying. when robert begins to walk on his feet, there’s a distinct limp. but there’s sixty minutes left to play and robert doesn’t want to let the team down. not that this game matters much more than the rest, and gotze and muller are both on the bench and can replace him.

“if you don’t get off the pitch now, you’ll only be hurting yourself more,” xabi hisses.

“i’m fine,” robert says and slightly shoves xabi away from him. xabi could take much - draws, losses, injuries and much more - but he couldn’t take robert being a damn fool and dragging himself through a game he couldn’t play.

but robert plays on, just barely, and definitely doesn’t score. at half time, the medical team floods him in the locker room. they don’t recommend he play the second half, and they don’t give him a choice in the matter either. xabi is relieved, but robert looks defeated. the medical team says he will be fine by the time the winter break is over. xabi walks over and pats robert’s shoulder.

“don’t be upset,” he says. “it could have been worse. you'll be okay, that’s what matters.”

in a cruel twist of fate, xabi goes down in the second half with an ankle injury of his own. he joins robert in the back, who is resting on a bed with an icepack on his ankle.

“you’re joking,” robert says, sitting up on his elbows when xabi limps into the room.

“i think pep is going to lose his mind out there,” xabi says. robert falls back on the bed and laughs.

xabi climbs onto the bed next to him and gets an ice pack of his own. they’re left alone in the room and chat quietly. robert reaches out his arm at one point, his fingers dangling out in the space between the two beds. xabi also reaches out and their fingers twist together. they don’t feel so bad for each other anymore.

*

they celebrate the end of the 2014 season, and the beginning of winter break, with a party in pure bavarian fashion. a lot of beer, and a lot of awkward dancing. xabi is wasted, and he blames the copious amounts of german beer thomas keeps shoving under his nose. thomas is equally plastered, and has began dancing horridly with manuel by his side, mimicking his moves. xabi slowly moves away from the pair of them, choosing to shield his eyes from the unfolding disaster as quick as possible. he finds robert sitting next to franck and david alaba and joins them, sitting on robert’s right. they were chatting about the game, but xabi couldn’t hear much over the loud music.

“you were great this year,” robert says at some point, leaning towards xabi.

“thanks,” xabi says, smiling stupidly. god, he was really too far gone. “you too!”

“thanks,” robert says. xabi keeps looking in front of him, trying not to squirm as robert keeps turning against him, knocking their knees together and talking in his ear. “you’re always so confident and so sure. i am so jealous of you for that. you’re even sure of your mistakes.”

“not always,” xabi says and he wasn’t thinking about the game. he turns towards robert to see franck and david had left. they were alone at the table, and there were crowds of people around them, but they were seemingly all alone. and robert was feeling brave. xabi could smell alcohol on his breath, and so he knew where the extra courage came from. robert was smiling, like he knew a secret and xabi would have to wring it out of him. but xabi couldn’t wait the whole night, nor could he wait another minute. robert was so close to him, they were pressed together so tightly, and all the air around them was evaporating more and more by the second. xabi was breathing heavily and so was robert. they were reaching the point of no return, the brink of it all.

robert’s hand was on xabi’s thigh. “please let’s –”

“yeah.”

finally, all xabi’s practice at sending telepathic messages had seemed to work.

they don't make it far. xabi drags robert to a small alley between two buildings and shoves him against the brick wall. robert loves it. he squirms under xabi’s hands, which keep robert pinned in place. xabi’s mouth hovers over robert’s and their breath passes and mingles in the cold air.

“do it,” robert says. because there’s no way back now.

xabi’s mouth lands on his and robert nearly sinks to his knees. so it had all been building to this, and he couldn’t say every excruciating minute hadn’t been worth it. xabi’s mouth begins to move and robert has his first experience being scratched by the ginger beard. it scraps along his skin, but robert doesn't mind. that's what comes along with kissing xabi alonso. they stay like that for a while, hands searching and grasping and pulling at one another. even though they knew each other’s bodies well, it was like they were meeting for the first time. now, their hands had a renewed purpose. they were free to roam and xabi’s hands reached lower than they ever dared to before.

“we can’t continue like this here,” robert breathes into xabi’s mouth.

“your car,” xabi mumbles.

they walk briskly into the parking lot and find robert’s car. they climb into the backseat and robert can’t help but laugh. they were like two young teenagers. but something about all of this was so new and made robert feel so naïve. not exactly like a virgin, but close.

xabi is in robert’s lap, kissing him with long, slow strokes. their arms are encircled around one another. they didn’t need more than this.

 


	5. Chapter 5

stolen kisses are shared between them at every opportunity. in locked rooms and hidden corners. in any place they can find when they accidentally look at each other for a beat too long, and need some release. because xabi can't think when robert's blue eyes are looking at him, and robert can't think about anything other than looking at xabi.

then winter break comes and they’re spending their days with their wives and families. they try texting, they even sneak in a few phone calls, but it isn’t the same. so when the qatar trip comes, robert feels relieved. but then he quickly feels guilty and for some reason, this time the guilt isn't so easily dismissed. maybe because he had a wonderful time during the break with his family, and what they would think of the mess robert has made startles him. so when he sees xabi, for the first time in a while, he holds himself back. and xabi, frighteningly perceptive as always, notices. 

 _are you all right?_ xabi texts robert.

robert is inside the hotel room he’s sharing with thomas. he’s looking out the window, overlooking the city. his phone is in his hand and after he reads xabi’s text message, he turns it off. he should have taken the winter break to sort out everything in his head, but instead he spent all of it thinking of xabi and the opportunity they would have on this trip. he’s scared - no, not just that - he’s scared shitless. every time robert remembers the feeling of xabi’s hands pressed against his body and his mouth brushing against his neck, he feels a chill and a flush of heat come over him all at once. he’s never felt this way with any teammate, any man. he’s never felt this way about anyone except anna.

they spend that afternoon at the doha training camp. robert is noticeably quiet, and after some jostling from bastian, he finally relinquishes some insight into his trapped state of mind.

“you think it’s possible to love two people at once?” he asks bastian.

“no.” bastian says quickly. obviously, it was a thought he had already considered and worked through. “you can’t fall in love again, if you’re already in love.”

robert is unable to hide his disappointment in bastian’s answer, so he adds a footnote. “but maybe what you think is love, really isn’t."

“maybe,” robert says. he looks across the field and sees xabi passing the ball with benatia. but if it wasn’t love that made his chest ache whenever he looked at xabi, then what was it?

xabi catches him staring, but looks away quickly before robert can be embarrassed. he senses robert needed space, but xabi thinks they're better off talking rather than ignoring one another.

after jostling pep endlessly, the bayern boys are finally allowed to leave the hotel and have dinner elsewhere for the night. xabi sits at the far end of the long table, while robert sits in the middle across from manuel. they pose for a group selfie, of course, and then dig into their dinner. robert is pushing the food around on his plate with his fork, unable to find his appetite.

“still not feeling well?” bastian asks, sitting next to manuel.

“not really,” robert replies. “i’m going to the bathroom to put some cold water on my face.”

xabi waits a beat, and then retraces robert’s steps. bastian notices, but keeps the observation to himself.

in the bathroom, robert presses his wet, cold hands against his face and let them soak his skin. he doesn’t feel better at all. he drops his hands and looks into the mirror to see xabi standing behind him. robert jumps, surprised by his appearance. xabi breaks out into a wide smile, not very characteristic of the spaniard.

“didn’t mean to scare you,” xabi says.

“it’s okay,” robert says. xabi is standing far too close. too close, for it to be construed as something innocent if anyone walked in. robert shifts uncomfortably and xabi’s face falls.

“why have you been avoiding me?”

once again, robert chooses to say nothing and keeps his eyes on the floor.

“this isn’t fair,” xabi says, his voice tightening. robert wants to fall into him, accept the relief that would bring. but he keeps his back straight up against the sink basin.

“no, it’s not,” robert concedes. “what we’re doing isn’t fair to anyone.”

“it’s a little too late for you to feel guilty,” xabi spits. he's harsher than he needs to be, but he doesn’t care. he wants to shake robert out of this state. this was the man that had slid his hand up xabi’s leg at the party, that had begged to be kissed, to be taken over and over. now he had decided, out of nowhere, he had enough. but xabi wasn’t finished.

xabi steps back, lets robert’s eyes finally meet his and then shrugs, as if to say ‘if you want this to end, then it’s over’, but he thinks differently.

_you’re hurting me,_ xabi thinks. _i’ll make you hurt too._

robert smiles slightly. he thinks this means they could go back to being friends. a time before he knew how sweet the inside of xabi’s mouth tasted.

at the next training session, robert lingers behind xabi the entire way. it was enough to make the other teammates notice.

“those two, peas in a pod,” thomas says to bastian who just smiled awkwardly.

xabi ignores robert’s obvious attempts at a friendly reconciliation. he concentrates on his training and keeps his lips sealed. he only speaks when spoken to, usually only by pep. robert occasionally makes some comment, or asks xabi to pass the ball with him, and xabi nods and complies. nothing more, nothing less.

the next training session is different. robert takes the hint and keeps his distance. xabi can’t stop the feeling of disappointment that wells up in his chest and makes him ache.

 


	6. Chapter 6

robert was not having a good month. three games without scoring, and pep was starting to lose his patience.

"you want to be here, right?" pep asks him. it's not a question he would have asked if he was in a better state of mind. it slips out, and robert's hands ball into fists.

" _of course,"_ he answers.

"you're not starting the next game," pep finishes. it's not a threat and it's not meant to motivate him to work harder. it's nothing other than a statement of fact. 

robert is angry with himself, unsure of how he became the kind of striker that pauses - in that crucial second when he needs to be scoring. he watches replays of the games, and he sees himself stop when he’s got the ball in front of the net. he remembers himself thinking and calculating, instead of doing what he’s supposed to do - kicking the damn ball and getting a goal.

he refuses to contemplate the idea that his poor performance could be blamed on breaking things off with xabi, but he was also having his own struggles. the game with wolfsburg was a bad day for everyone, but xabi would not compare himself to others. his performance - sloppy, confused and maddening - was a colossal disappointment. upon coming home, xabi undressed and crawled into bed. he just wanted to sleep and sleep, until the day was forgotten. yet behind his closed eyes, he had thoughts of robert. when xabi had gotten into a shoving match with arnold, everyone had flocked to his defense. even neuer abandoned his net, and came in to break up the mob fight that ensued. robert faintly intervened but mostly stayed far back, observing the scene and breathing heavily. xabi didn’t know what he expected. obviously the polish man had learned his lesson, to stay back. but it wasn’t what xabi really wanted.

 _what the hell do i want?_ xabi thought. _i want to be with him. i want to touch him. just one more time._

xabi doesn’t think robert was sharing these thoughts, which made him angry with himself for letting his mind falling back into the old routine. think about robert - his smooth skin, his unflinching blue eyes, his strong hands - and touch himself while doing so. it was a natural progression. he couldn’t think of robert for too long, before he thought of all they used to do, and how hard he would get.

xabi didn’t know robert would get distracted watching xabi on the pitch, instead of watching where xabi sent the ball flying. he could see xabi growing more and more frustrated during the wolfsburg game, but he had to remind himself that if he sought to comfort the man, he would end up doing more damage. xabi looked like he didn’t want to be touched, and if anyone dared to, they’d have their arm broken. bastian stood between xabi and arnold, when the fighting ensued. he also saw how xabi was unraveling, and not just on the pitch that day. he was despondent during training as well, and uncommunicative in the locker room or at team dinners. he saw the pains robert took so that he would never be within xabi’s eyeline. but just because xabi couldn’t see him, didn’t mean the image of him didn’t overtake his thoughts. and bastian thought, he could say something, but he didn’t think it would be best to involve himself. he thought, he could tell him, i’ve been where you are too. but what they had was not the relationship he had with lucas. with lucas, they could stop and start, and never lose the thread of what they had. but with robert and xabi, they yearned for it all, or nothing.

and bastian was right. they couldn’t take a small dose of one another, they needed it forever and always. xabi thought to himself, _i finish this season, and the next and my contract is up and so is my footballing career. i have no reason to stay in munich, nor will i._ what he would not say, even within his own mind, is that he would never have to see robert again. but if he could make it through the season without a complete breakdown, xabi was not so sure.

the schalke game hardly showed an approved performance from the both of them. robert’s slip-in goal was discounted, and xabi was pained to see his celebration cut short by a referee’s bad call. in the locker room, the mood was less than jolly. they were playing at home, and they had dominated much of the game. they were running out of excuses to not be winning in a league everyone expected them to run all over. and maybe because they were too tired to hold back, robert and xabi start talking again.

“maybe our stroke of good luck is finally up,” xabi says, sitting on the bench next to robert. his bayern shorts had ridden up his thighs and normally robert would have shamelessly looked at those legs and thought of what it’d feel like to be between them. the heat, and the smell. but now he would do his best not to.

robert smiles. “but it was never just luck, you know that.”

“we need philipp to come back and kick us in the ass.” at that, they both laugh.

“i’m sure he can’t wait,” robert says.

xabi waits a beat, and robert can almost sense what’s coming next. he lets it.

“well, i need a drink. how about you?”

“sure. i’ll drive.”

they shower, get dressed into casual clothes - well, for xabi that still means a form-fitting sweater and an expensive scarf draped over one shoulder - and robert drives them to a bar he knows is nearby.

robert tries to concentrate on the road, rather than thinking of what he and xabi were up to the last time they were in his car. xabi must be thinking of it too because his breaths are coming out short and fast, like he was running rather than sitting still. and in that moment, robert forgets everything he was fighting against. all the reasons he told him that whatever he was doing with xabi had an expiration date, and the quicker he accepted that, the better off he would be. but he thought of how much he wanted to be with this man, and not only physically, and he allowed himself to see how much xabi wanted him too. how good it felt just to speak with him, and pretend they hadn’t made it all more complicated than they could handle. but what if they could handle it?

robert drives into the bar’s parking lot and parks the car. xabi is peeking out the window on his side. “never been here before,” he says.

“xabi,” robert says. his name sounds so heavy on his tongue, because it’s a name he had been trying to forget he had ever heard or had ever left his mouth with a moan following it.

“robert, please don’t - ” xabi wanted to stop the conversation he was expecting. the ‘this is just a friendly thing’ conversation.

“listen to me,” robert hisses. “i’ve missed you so much. more than i probably know because i’ve been fighting against it.”

“i missed you too,” xabi says but he still can’t look at the other man. “and i want to be with you. but i don't want to be together, if that means the whole time you're thinking about how wrong it is.”

“it doesn’t feel wrong, it never felt wrong,” robert says. “that’s probably what scared me.”

“so what are we going to do?” xabi asks. he needs permission.

“for the moment, i only want you to kiss me,” robert says. that’s all xabi needs to hear. he leans over in his seat, and puts a hand on robert’s cheek. they hadn’t been in this position for a month, but they fall into place easily. robert tilts his head to the left and xabi kisses him slowly, softly. he’s afraid to break the peace that’s been made. he’s afraid to push too hard and send robert running backwards again. robert reaches forward to touch him on his waist, but xabi still holds back. he kisses him with the intent to memorize every sensation and every taste because he knows how fleeting this was.

 


	7. Chapter 7

xabi can’t give up what he’s got, while he’s got it. and robert ends up with chapped lips and a sore chin half the time.

“that beard is going to leave scars,” robert groans when he examines the damage in an elevator mirror. xabi is standing behind him, smirking proudly, and clearly not prepared to apologize.

they haven’t gone beyond kissing, because xabi can sense that robert is not ready for anything more. any time robert feels xabi’s erection brush against his thigh, he pulls back with a furious blush.

“xabi,” he breathes. he’s surprised by the effect he can have on the stoic spaniard.

“this is what you do to me,” xabi says, reading his thoughts. “this is how much i want you.”

“yeah,” robert says with a smile he can’t hide. he likes it, but he doesn’t know what to do with it. robert is always unsure lately, of his abilities, his place on the team, and his relationship with xabi. xabi kisses him hard, forcing those worries to fade. and temporarily, they do. because xabi’s kisses make the world around them a fog that robert can’t see through.

they haven’t been caught by anyone on the team yet, but robert figures it’s only a matter of time. they’re inseperable any moment they can be together. and when they speak, it’s always in hushed whispers. there’s that aura of secrecy between them, more than just friends who have a few jokes between them that no one would understand. robert thinks, _shouldn’t i be scared?_ because relationships between teammates could hardly be condoned. let alone, two married teammates. but xabi seems so unafraid of whatever consequences there might be. so robert has to ask him, “is this your first time?”

“with a man?” xabi asks.

“yes, but also, with a teammate?”

xabi’s head leans back. they’re sitting on the bus, on their way to the paderborn game.

“there was someone, a long time ago.”

“you didn’t get caught.”

“well, some people knew, but they didn’t make a fuss about it. they saw we were happy.”

“what happened?”

xabi looks at robert with a faint smile. “i went to real madrid.”

“so... you also like men.”

xabi shrugs. “i don’t know. i fall in love before i realize they’re a man or a woman. maybe that sounds strange, but that’s the way it’s always been.”

and that was that. robert didn’t feel the need to ask any more. and he especially couldn’t ask if xabi meant he was in love with robert.

they huddle in the tunnel before the game, with the tips of xabi’s fingers moving over robert’s open palm. they’d be holding hands if they could.

“you’ll be great,” xabi murmurs. robert watches his lips move, listens to his lisp smooth over those words.

“will i score?” robert asks with a laugh.

xabi smiles. “score for me.”

 “all right,” robert says, but it’s not a promise he’s sure he can keep.

when robert scores in the away game, their celebrations are muted, but xabi shows his pride all the same. thomas keeps his arm around robert’s waist, parading him like a trophy after the first goal. xabi manages to squeeze in, to do his usual ruffle of robert’s hair. robert is panting, his head still spinning. they’ve still got a long game ahead of them. but robert kept his promise, and then he seals it with a second goal.

in the dressing room, robert is still teasing arjen for not giving him the pass in the last five seconds of the game, so he could have his hat trick. arjen is apologetic, as much as arjen robben can be. xabi patiently watches them tease each other, and then for the room to clear out as the players start heading to the bus to take them back to the munich.

when it’s just the two of them, xabi walks up behind robert and wraps his arms around him. he presses a kiss to his neck and robert leans against him, his head falling back on xabi’s shoulder.

“how would you like to be congratulated?” xabi asks and something inside robert stirs.

“you know,” robert says, too shy to elaborate. he feels xabi’s hands boldly slip under the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down. robert gasps but doesn’t move away. xabi’s hand, calloused and rough, palms robert’s cock and begins stroking slowly.

“is this what you want?” xabi asks.

“yes,” robert whispers. he turns his head and allows xabi’s tongue into his mouth. xabi, like a man would, knows just how to move his hand, the right pressure and the exact tempo. robert comes into xabi’s hand with a jolt that rocks his entire body, but xabi is right there to hold him up with an arm wrapped around his stomach. he strokes robert’s softening cock until he’s empty.

“clean up.” xabi walks backwards, grabs a towel and throws it towards robert. “they’re probably wondering where we are.”

_as bossy off the pitch, as he is on it,_ robert thinks. but he likes it. as he cleans himself up and pulls his shorts back on, he hears the soft padding of bare feet walking across the floor and looks up to see the flushed face of juan bernat.

“i took some extra time in the shower,” juan stammers, looking everywhere but at robert’s slackened face.

“juan —”

“it’s fine,” juan mumbles. “i won’t say anything.”

then he smiles a little, a reassurance that his words are his promise. and robert believes him.

“thank you,” he says. “it’s nothing serious... we just...”

robert stops because he doesn’t have the vocabulary at hand to explain what he and xabi were doing at all.

“it happens,” juan says, as he starts to dress in his bayern sweats. “but i don’t think xabi knows it isn’t serious.”

he slams his locker shut, the sharp sound making robert jump, and walks away.

 


End file.
